


A Wild Courage

by thehylianmusicianandwriter



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Gen, Legend of Zelda - Freeform, Master Sword, Master Sword go bye-bye :(, Sequel, Zelda - Freeform, botw, breath of the wild - Freeform, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehylianmusicianandwriter/pseuds/thehylianmusicianandwriter
Summary: It's over-it's finally over. A year after the Hero's awakening, the Great Calamity has been defeated and sealed away by the Hero and the Princess. Finally able to rest, Link and Zelda begin making plans to rebuild the kingdom, until chaos once again strikes. What will they do, now that the Master Sword has been brutally stolen? Post BoTW.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! Oh look, another post-BoTW fanfiction :D Thank you for clicking on this story. I read a post a long time ago that has stayed in the back of my mind—what if Link lost his companion, the legendary blade, the incredible Master Sword? So, I decided to write it. I hope you enjoy! I tried to stick to canon as much as possible, but there are a few minor changes here and there. I have the first few chapters ready, so will try to stick to a weekly/every other week schedule, as long as I am able to. I have also decided to post the first two chapters together, so if you liked this first one, you can move onto the next chapter without having to wait a whole week!  
> As always, please leave a follow/favorite/review if you feel inclined to do so!

**Chapter 1**

Finally, for the first time in over one hundred years, there was peace in Hyrule once more.

The angry, bloody sky that had pervaded over the formidable battle between the Hero and the Calamity receded, quickly replaced by a beautiful blue hue. The malice that had intertwined with Hyrule Castle for the last century vanished with the monster of legend, banished to a different realm by the divine power of the Princess.

Link could hear birds twittering in the distance as a sense of calm overcame the kingdom. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It was over.

And yet, despite all the beauty around him, there was only one being that captivated his exhausted mind and eye with her resplendency.

Her back was to him as she faced her ruined castle, her long, golden hair flowing gently in the wind. She was still dressed in the white prayer dress that he last remembered her in, though it was now dirtied and tattered. Link sheathed the Blade of Evil’s Bane and approached her, his heart suddenly pounding. Still, though, she did not turn.

“I’ve been keeping watch over you all this time,” she said quietly, almost undulating. “I’ve witnessed your struggles to return to us, as well as your trials in battle.” She paused, pursing her lips. “I always thought—no, I always believed—that you would find a way to defeat Ganon.”

Finally, she turned around to face him, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. She met his eyes, tears forming in the corners of her own. “I never lost faith in you over these many years. Thank you, Link—the Hero of Hyrule.” She smiled slightly, though a crinkle formed between her eyebrows.

A wavering hope lit up her green eyes. “May I ask…do you really remember me?”

Link blinked and took in a shuddering breath, his lower lip quivering slightly. “Yes,” he said, his voice breaking. “Yes, I do.” He broke into a small run as he closed the distance between them, stopping just short of her. He wanted to throw his arms around her, to hold her close and never let her go, to really feel her—but he stopped himself, and instead took her hand in his, her touch electrifying him, and kneeled before her, head bowed. “Princess,” he said, “I am honored to have fought by your side today.”

Zelda laughed—a wonderful, musical sound that set a warm glow in Link’s belly. “Please rise, Sir Link,” she said, squeezing his hand.

Link lifted his head and met her eyes, holding her gaze as he stood. “Princess,” he said, breaking his gaze to look at the castle behind her. “We did it.” He smiled weakly at her.

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes raking over the decrepit state of what was both her home and her prison for one hundred years. Everything felt so unreal, as if she was in a dream, and yet her vision could not be sharper. She looked back at Link, laughing quietly. “Yes, Link—we did it.”

Just then, she realized that their fingers were still intertwined. Blushing, she released his hand and let her own drop to her side, still not taking her gaze off of her knight. His left arm bracer was missing, revealing a large, gaping gash that was slowly dripping blood. The right sleeve of his blue Champion’s tunic was torn, revealing a blistering burn on his skin—from Ganon’s Malice, she realized. One arm was wrapped around his middle, holding his side in pain. Her eyes came to rest on his face, where a large cut resided on his temple. Though he was smiling, his features were drawn taut across his face. Zelda inhaled sharply, cursing herself for not noticing his injuries sooner.

“Link,” Zelda began, “are you alright?” Gingerly, Zelda reached for his arm to examine the gash.

He shrugged, wincing slightly. “I’m alive,” _and with you_ , he wanted to add, “thanks to you.” He hissed as she rolled back the tattered remains of his sleeve. “Though, I must confess Princess- I may have a few broken ribs. And,” he added, “I think I may have hit my head at some point—when we were in the sanctum.” Now that his adrenaline was no longer pumping, the familiar aches and pains of battle were returning, along with a pounding headache.

Zelda winced. “How hard?”

Link shrugged again. “My brains are still in my skull.”

Zelda sighed, exasperated; he hadn’t changed much. “You very well could have received a concussion—and Goddess knows that we don’t want to worsen your…memory loss,” she finished, grimacing. “This wound on your arm doesn’t look great either.” She moved up to the gash on his head, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

Link’s heart squeezed. Their eyes met, and something ancient and protective stirred in him. _You’re mine,_ it said, _mine to defend._

“I’ll be okay,” Link said, blinking. He wiped his forehead with a tattered sleeve, the blood staining it. He glanced down at it before looking back at her. “But I do think that we should head to Kakariko Village and show Impa the good news—you.” He said, his expression softening. 

“But what about—”

Link shook his head. “I think I still have a minor healing potion in my saddlebag; it’ll suffice for the journey there. Impa’s granddaughter is an apprentice healer—she’ll fix me right up.”

Zelda’s hand dropped from Link’s cheek. “Impa—she—she has a granddaughter?” Zelda said, her heart constricting. Her oldest friend and closest advisor was a _grandmother._

Link nodded, his stomach suddenly churning. “Yes,” he said, turning away from her, trying to let the feeling of nausea pass. He took a breath and whistled for his horse, who whinnied as she came loping up to them. He stroked her neck, scanning her to check for any injuries from the final battle, but thankfully she appeared to have none. He reached a hand into the saddlebag, pulling out a small vial of red liquid. As his stomach began churning again, he quickly pulled the cork off of the vial and drank its contents. A light feeling of contentment filled him as his headache disappeared and a few minor bruises on his arms vanished.

“What’s his…name?” Zelda asked.

Link grinned and patted his trusty steed on the shoulder. “Her name is Epona. Go on, you can pet her,” he added, seeing Zelda’s strange wariness.

Hesitantly Zelda lifted the back of her hand to Epona’s nose, who happily sniffed the presented appendage, most likely hoping for an apple. Epona snorted and shook her head, her bridle jingling jovially. Zelda turned her hand over and raised it to the horse’s cheek, petting her gently. Epona nickered.

“Seems like she likes you,” Link said. “Hey—Princess, what’s wrong?”

Tears rolled down Zelda’s face as she shakily continued to stroke Epona. “It’s just that—that—she’s so soft,” Zelda finished quietly, her shoulders shaking. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry Sir Link, I shouldn’t be—well, we should really be going.”

Unsure what to say, Link silently grabbed the reins and hoisted himself up into the saddle. He held a hand out to Zelda and deftly pulled her up behind him. She sniffled again before snaking her gentle hands around his waist, clasping them together above his naval. She gazed up at the handle of the Master Sword strapped to Link’s back, separating herself and her knight. He turned Epona towards the Dueling Peaks and clucked her forward into an easy lope.

For the next few wordless minutes, Zelda sniffled and wiped away her tears as they cantered on. “Again, I am so sorry,” she said, breaking the silence. “I cannot stop crying.” She took a deep breath, her grip around Link’s waist tightening. “It has been one hundred years since I have touched anything.” She laid her head on Link’s back, watching the ruins of her kingdom pass by. Link swallowed, his grip on the reins tightening. “I was trapped with Ganon in his cocoon. I had no physical body. We were two powerful essences battling one another.

“It was terrible,” she continued, unable to stop herself. “The visions he forced upon me…there were many times that I wished that I could have just died out there on Blatchery Plain with you. Reality and the nightmares that Ganon forced me to endure blurred together. 

“I think, though,” she went on, “that the Goddess herself was with me. Or my mother. I’m still not sure. It was their love and my memories that kept me focused on keeping Ganon sealed until you returned.”

“What memories?” Link asked softly, steering Epona around a fallen log.

“The wilds of Hyrule, taking Storm along the Hylia River, life in the castle, the other Champions. And you,” she added, just barely stopping herself. _Most of them were of you._

Without thinking, he moved his reins into one palm and gently placed his free hand over Zelda’s.

She was _achingly_ familiar.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, another tear escaping under her eyelashes. _What does he remember?_

Link returned his hand to the reins. “Storm?”

Zelda opened her eyes and picked up her head, her eyes tracing the outline of Link’s pointed ear. “What about him?”

“Who was he?”

“Oh! Do you not remember him?” Zelda said without thinking, and immediately wished that she could stuff her words back into her mouth before they reached his ears.

“No,” Link said blankly.

“No, of course not, I apologize,” she said sheepishly. “He was my handsome white stallion. Do you remember teaching me how to ride?”

Link licked his lips before replying, a stone in his stomach. “No,” he said.

Zelda’s heart sank. _What does he remember?_ She wondered again. “That’s alright,” she said gently. “I was taught the basics of riding while growing up in the castle, but I’d never truly ridden before, until we—until you became my knight,” she said. “You were the one who taught me how to soothe my mount, and how to gallop across vast terrains confidently.” She smiled softly, the memories sharp in her mind. These were the memories that kept her grounded during her century-long struggle. “Of course, I was only open to listening to your advice after I stopped being so envious of you.” She smiled gently, glancing up again at the blade’s handle. They were both quiet for a moment as Link steered them through a shallow but wide stream.

“You had a fear of horses,” Link blurted, suddenly remembering. It wasn’t a strong memory, more akin to whispers of vague words. “You—I can’t entirely…you had fallen off as a young child.”

Zelda squeezed Link around his midsection, hope pouring into her. _There’s hope for his memories after all_. “Yes! I had fallen off when I was twelve, and refused to ride. But then my father had gifted me Storm for my sixteenth birthday, and you taught me how to not be so afraid. But I fell off again when we were in Castle Town—when we ran back to try to face the Calamity—and that was the last time I saw that handsome horse.”

Link furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember their last moments in Castle Town, but nothing surfaced. Frustrated, Link turned his mind back to Zelda’s white horse.

“I think I own his descendant,” he said suddenly.

Zelda blinked, confused. “What?”

“Yes. Someone at Outskirt Stable—Toffa, I think that was his name—mentioned that he had heard a tale from his grandfather about a pure white horse on Safula Hill that was said to be descended from the Royal Family’s line of white horses. Turns out, he was right.” Link grinned. “I went there and found this white horse, grazing by himself, away from the herd. So, I tamed him and brought him back to Toffa. He apparently had inherited your bridle and saddle from his grandfather, but felt that they were better kept with me and the horse.”

Zelda’s jaw dropped. “Holy Hylia. Where is he being kept?!”

Link laughed. “He’s at the Dueling Peaks Stable right now. We’ll pass by there on our way to Kakariko; we can have him saddled and you can ride him the rest of the way there, if you feel comfortable.”

Zelda grinned. “I would like that very much. Thank you,” she added. Link nodded, but said nothing more for a while.

For the next hour, they rode in silence together, enjoying the peaceful scenery as the sun began to drop in the west. Zelda’s heart ached as they rode past the grey, meek ruins of buildings and towns; her kingdom was in such a state of disrepair that she feared there would be no returning Hyrule to its former self. For the first time in her life, she had no plans, no idea of what the future held. She had always had an overarching expectation and goal of awakening her sealing power, and after that came to fruition, her goal was to hold off Ganon long enough for Link to awaken. And now—she felt weightless. Now, she realized, she needed to develop some new ambitions, and first on the list was to see Impa. That made her feel better, though her stomach did a nervous flip at the thought of seeing the passage of time marked on her closest friend. 

“Link,” Zelda began, “I hope this question isn’t too personal, but—what do you remember?”

Link said nothing, though his shoulders were relaxed.

“Link? Are you alright?” Zelda said at the realization that her knight was beginning to lean forward in the saddle, limp. “Link?”

He jolted upwards, taking in a couple of rapid breaths. Instinctively, his hand flew to the handle of the Master Sword, though he did not draw it. He looked around at her, blinking. “Everything okay?” he said, dropping his hand and picking up the slack in the reins.

“What were you doing?” Zelda furrowed her eyebrows, concerned.

Link took in another deep breath, head pounding. The sun had just about set, and the land around them was awash in darkness. He quickly looked up around him, searching for the immense Dueling Peaks. Thankfully, they were right up ahead, and he concluded that he had only been unconscious for a few moments. He cursed himself for his weakness; anything could have happened to her while his guard was down.

“Truthfully, Princess, I think that healing potion is wearing off,” Link said, a familiar ache beginning to return to his ribs, limbs, and head. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand—getting Zelda to the stables, and then to Impa.

“Hmm. We should try to keep you awake until Impa’s granddaughter can take a look at you and make sure that your head is alright,” she said. “There’s a good chance that you were concussed.” Link nodded but didn’t say anything as a few silent moments stretched between them.

Zelda looked back around at some crumbling ruins; her memory failed to tell her what it once was. A peaceful village situated in the shadow of the Dueling Peaks, perhaps? She frowned, irritated at herself for not remembering. Glancing again at the moldering stone walls, she sent a silent prayer of apology to the Goddess.

“I remember visiting a village in Hyrule Field once,” she said. “Mabe Village. There was a large horse ranch beside it.”

“Really?” Link said, bringing Epona to a trot as they went over the Proxim Bridge above Hylia River.

“Yes,” she said. “We travelled there on a customary visit for the celebratory harvest on Farore’s Day.” She paused, wondering if Hylians still celebrated the seasonal days of the Goddesses, or if those customs, too, were lost to time. “I remember meeting the daughter of the ranch owner; her name was Malon, I believe. She gave me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and told me that their newborn foal’s namesake was my own.” She paused. “Tell me, Link—do they still celebrate Farore’s Day? Or Din’s Day, or Nayru’s Day? You’ve been awake for a whole year; have you seen any celebrations?”

Link took in a deep breath, eyeing the river for any hiding Lizalfos as they trotted between the Dueling Peaks. It seemed that most of the monsters had scurried off for the time being, in the aftermath of the battle.

His own memories of those holy days were blurry at best. A pang of guilt struck him. “Not as they would have been one hundred years ago.” He paused. “I do remember hearing the people of Hateno discussing their harvests for Farore’s Day, but there was no real celebration that I’m aware of. I think families just had good dinners in their homes.” He vaguely wondered who he had celebrated the Goddess’ Days with.

“I’m…not surprised,” Zelda said. “It’s unfortunate, though. Those were some of the best days—the castle would hold huge feasts and grandiose balls for anyone in the kingdom that could come. I never was comfortable at the dances.” She smiled, the distant sounds of cheerful laughter echoing in her mind. “Though it doesn’t seem like you remember those either, do you?” She said, not unkindly.

A flash of guilt and surprising irritation went through him. “No, not really. But I’m sure the feasts were a lot of fun,” he added, trying to suppress his chagrin.

“Yes, quite,” she said, her heart sinking even lower. She listened for a moment to the gentle clinking of the Master Sword against its sheath. “Nayru’s Day was observed in the peak of winter. The Castle Feast was less of a feast and more of a mediocre meal; it acted more as a way for our people to get out of the blistering cold if need be. Din’s Day was celebrated at the peak of summer, for people to take a break from growing their crops. We had a relatively large feast for Din’s Day. Plenty of people would swim in the Hylia River.” she smiled, lost in the memory of the last year of celebrations before the Calamity. A vision of a shirtless Link floating in the water under the moonlight swam before her eyes. Zelda forced the vivid memory away and continued. “Farore’s Day was in celebration of plentiful harvests throughout the kingdom. In the week leading up to Farore’s Day, my father and I would be escorted out to as many towns as possible, to meet our citizens, invite them to the Castle Feast, and be shown their fields and harvests. The feast at the castle was always the biggest one every year. I remember—”

“Wait,” Link said, his grip on the reins tightening as he let out a small breath. “I was born on Farore’s Day.”

Zelda grinned. “And I was born on Nayru’s Day. I’m not surprised, courageous hero.”

“I wonder if Ganon was born on Din’s Day, then.”

Zelda snorted.

“There’s the stable,” Link said, lifting a hand to point to the large horse head in front of them. “Your steed is there, Princess.” Bringing Epona to a walk as they approached the stable, Link finally halted her by the small pond and dismounted. “Stay here,” he instructed.

“Wait,” Zelda said, looking at the shrine behind her, the water reflecting the shimmering blue lights of its walls, “what was it like? The shrines, I mean.”

Link rubbed the nape of his neck and shrugged. “Some of them were pretty difficult, but they helped prepare me for the battle with Ganon.” He looked up at her, his grin lopsided. “Too bad we weren’t able to figure out how to get into them a century ago.”

Zelda laughed and shooed him away.

Still grinning to himself, Link took a deep breath, trying to calm the dizzying pounding of his head, and strode over to the stable master.

Zelda watched quietly as Link smiled and conversed with the stable master, who eyed him up and down, before disappearing behind the barn. He came out a few minutes later, leading a pure white horse. Zelda gasped. He looked identical to Storm. He was even bearing her beautiful royal saddle and bridle, adorned with the golden crest of the royal family.

Tears filled her eyes again, though she quickly wiped them away as Link took the horse and walked back over to her.

“Your steed,” Link said, bowing slightly.

Zelda leaped off of Epona, patting her quickly on the neck, before approaching the white stallion. A lump came into her throat as she reached a hand up to his nose. He nickered gently at her.

“What’s his name?” Zelda asked quietly. He was a spitting image of Storm, and memories of them riding together flooded her.

Link rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly. “Cloud. I know, not very creative. But he’s white, and clouds are white, so…”

Zelda laughed. “It fits him perfectly.” She looked at Link, taking in again his tattered appearance. “Thank you.” She reached up and grabbed the pommel of her saddle. She declined Link’s kind offer to help her into the seat. “We really should be getting you to Kakariko,” she said, pulling herself into the saddle. She picked up the reins, the old leather soft and familiar in her hands. Another lump filled her throat. “My tack was well cared for over the past century, I see.”

Link gingerly swung himself into Epona’s saddle and clucked her forward. Zelda nudged Cloud along behind them. “Yes,” he said. “I wonder if Toffa’s grandfather was a stable hand at the castle, or if he just found Storm out in Safula Hill after the Calamity.”

Zelda patted Cloud on the shoulder, feeling guilty for not remembering the names of all the stable hands.

As they passed Blatchery Plain, the painful memory of Link valiantly protecting her and dying in her arms rose up in Zelda’s mind. Last time she was here, hundreds of Guardians roamed about, searching for any signs of life for them to snuff out amongst the pouring rain.

“ _Link, save yourself! Go! I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me!”_

_…_

_“Link, get up! You’re going to be just fine…”_

This was where her powers had awoken.

Zelda clenched the reins tighter, shaking slightly. Cloud shook his head, irritated at the increased pressure on his mouth.

“Sorry boy,” Zelda quietly said, forcing her hands to relax their grip.

Quietly, they rode upwards and north to Kakariko Village, Link wincing from the pain emanating from his ribs with every step Epona took. In the distant northeast, they saw the dragon Naydra flying gracefully through the sky. Even now, a year later after he first awoke, his breath was still taken away by the beauty of the dragon spirits. He heard Zelda gasp behind him. He smiled.

“Were the dragons seen much before?” He asked, leaning over his shoulder to speak to her.

Zelda shook her head, mesmerized by the large blue dragon. “No; no one that I know of, other than you, has ever seen one before. You mentioned them to me once on our travels to the springs. I didn’t entirely believe you, I must confess. There are three, aren’t they?”

“Yes; one in Eldin, one in Lanayru, and one in Faron. Wait, is this your first time seeing--?”

“Yes,” Zelda breathed, wide-eyed. “You must be blessed by the Goddess herself to be able to see them.”

Link blinked a few times but said nothing, ruminating.

After a few minutes, Naydra flew out of sight, and the sky was blocked by the cliff walls surrounding them as they neared Kakariko. Finally, though, they reached the familiar paper lanterns and wooden archways of the peaceful village. 

They slowed their horses down to a walk as they entered the top of the village. Stars were scattered across the sky; Link guessed it was only a couple hours before midnight. The Sheikah man who was normally present at the entrance of the village during the day was not there.

Zelda said nothing behind him, but Link could feel the level of anxiety that surrounded her. They both took a deep breath as they neared Impa’s home, at the center. Her abode was built on a high platform, which had stairs leading up to it. The large, dipping roof reminded Zelda of the last time she was here, over one hundred years ago. Not much had changed about it, but at that time it had been Impa’s grandmother who had been the village elder.

As the current village elder, Impa’s home was protected day and night by two Sheikah guards, Cado and Dorian. Tonight, it appeared Dorian was on duty. He looked up at the approaching travelers, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

“Master Link?” Dorian said. “Is that you?!”

Link and Zelda halted their horses in front of the guard.

“Oh Goddess, Link—am I happy to see you! We all heard something roaring out in Hyrule Field, so most of the village ran to Sahasra Slope and watched your great battle with that ferocious, boar-like beast from there. It was incredible—everyone was cheering for you!” Dorian beamed. “The celebrations only just ended a little while ago. You look awful,” Dorian added.

Link grunted, breathing shallow. “Thank you. Listen, Dorian--I know the hour is late, but we must speak to Impa. This is Princess Zelda.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome back, reader! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. And before anyone says anything, yes, I know, the inn in Kakariko in the game has no rooms; but that was one of the small canon things I chose to change. Hope you can forgive this transgression of mine and still enjoy reading.  
> As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a follow/favorite/review! I read every single review that is left on my stories and it always leaves me smiling for the rest of the month.

**Chapter 2**

Dorian looked behind Link, his red eyes finding the small form of a blonde girl dressed in a dirty and tattered white dress. Her horse snorted and pawed the ground. Dorian glanced back and forth between Link and Zelda. Dumbly, he nodded and bowed his head.

“Princess.” Dorian said. He looked back up at Link. “Master Link, I—"

Just then, the double wooden doors at the top of the stairs opened, revealing a lithe, feminine figure with white hair, and the signature Sheikah symbol painted onto her forehead.

Zelda’s heart squeezed. “Impa?!” She gasped.

“W-what seems to be going on down there at this hour—L-Link, is that you!?” The girl called, her voice suddenly going up an octave.

Link gave a small wave up to her, grimacing slightly. “’Lo, Paya. Do you mind if we come in?”

“We…?” Paya trailed off, as her eyes wandered to Link’s companion. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the face in the low lantern light.

Paya gasped, taking a step back. “Oh, Goddess—yes, oh my goodness, yes please come up—Grandmother! Grandmother, they’re here, they’re back!” Paya shouted as she ran back into the house.

Link gave a nod to Dorian and dismounted Epona gingerly, wincing as he landed on his feet. He patted Epona’s neck briefly, vision swimming for a few unsteady seconds. “Thanks girl,” he murmured. She nickered and tossed her head a few times. He turned to offer Zelda a hand down. 

Seeing Link’s tenderness on his dismount, Zelda quickly alighted from her own steed, ignoring his hand. “I’m alright,” she murmured to him. He nodded and said nothing, following behind her as they ascended the staircase.

Paya had left the doors open in her haste. Together, Link and Zelda entered the Sheikah home. Zelda looked around the large room, her heart pounding. There were cushions arranged symmetrically along the ground, lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and various books and teapots sitting along the shelves around the walls. However, what caught her eye was the immense tapestry behind a pile of stacked cushions in the center of the room, and the large painting of Blatchery Plain on the left.

Her heart squeezed like a fist in her chest.

Just then, a tiny, elderly Sheikah woman descended the staircase, ushered by Paya. The old woman picked up the robes around her feet as she took the last step off the stairs. Paya escorted her grandmother to a small stool beside the pile of cushions and gingerly helped her up onto the seat. Paya bowed her head and stepped away as the elder woman murmured a small thank you.

Finally, she looked up. 

“Zelda,” she said, her wrinkled features softening as her face broke out into a wide smile. “My dear, it has been a long time.”

“Impa,” Zelda said, letting out a choked sob. Without thinking, she crossed the room and embraced her old friend, hugging her tight, her shoulders shaking. “Your granddaughter looks just like you.”

Impa smiled widely as she broke their hug, though she held onto Zelda’s elbows. “You look just as beautiful as you did a century ago, Princess.”

“You as well, my friend.”

Impa laughed. “The flow of time is always cruel, my dear. I am one hundred and twenty-eight years old; I know I am just about dust. But I am so thankful to the Goddess that I lived long enough to see you again. To see you both,” Impa added, turning to Link. He smiled and bowed his head, though his features were taut. She squinted at him. “The whole of the village watched your battle out in Hyrule Field; even little old me was able to see most of it, thanks to my granddaughter. You have made Hyrule very proud,” Impa said, glancing at the glistening blue and green handle of the blade strapped to Link’s back.

Link nodded once and bowed his head slightly again.

“Though you are obviously injured.” She looked him up and down, taking in his various gashes and burns, her eyes softening. “How you made it back here—”

“I’m alright,” he said. “I needed to ensure the Princess got to you safely.” 

Zelda pursed her lips. “He had a minor healing potion, but it wore off about an hour into our journey here. He seems to have hit his head—most likely broken a few ribs as well,” she added, looking at her knight.

He looked back, but said nothing. Zelda straightened her back and set her jaw.

“Paya, my dear? Would you mind tending to the Hero’s wounds?” Impa instructed.

“Y-yes, of course!” Paya said, jumping up. “Here, M-Master Link, let me pull up a chair for you.”

“Thank you, Paya,” Link said, taking a shallow breath as he unstrapped the Master Sword and placed it next to him as he sat down.

“I-I hope you don’t mind me taking a look at you,” Paya murmured, timidly lifting a hand and pushing his bangs away so as to inspect at the gash on his brow. “Headache? Dizziness? Nausea?”

Aware of Zelda and Impa’s eyes on him, he looked away from Paya. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Mhm. Sounds like a concussion to me. Walking alright? You seem to be speaking just fine. S-so I think it would be okay for you to sleep and get some rest tonight. Now, let me see your arm.”

He gingerly lifted his slashed arm. The blood around it had dried, leaving a large, glossy, reddish-brown stain around it and on his torn sleeve. Link could tell that Paya was trying to be as professional as possible as she turned his arm this way and that, examining the borders of the wound. He liked Paya, and considered her a friend; she was a sweet and smart girl, though he felt awkward around her for only the fact that he had accidentally read her diary and discovered that she had written down her intense and very private feelings for him.

“I can apply a poultice to your arm and head for those gashes, but I’ll have to wrap your arm. I can give you some stronger healing potions as well; they won’t be able to cure your concussion or your broken ribs, but they can at least keep the pain at bay for longer. T-they’re made with willow,” she added as an afterthought.

Link nodded. “Thank you Paya, I appreciate it.” 

A small thorn of jealousy nettled its way into Zelda’s stomach as she watched Paya’s girlish hands gently touching her knight’s face and arms, speaking to him quietly. Zelda blinked hard and looked back at Impa, attempting to dismiss the childish feeling.

_How asinine._

“So,” Impa began, taking Zelda’s hands in hers. “Please, tell me what you can. I know it is late, and that you both are exhausted, so I will not beg for any minute details; those can wait until tomorrow.”

Zelda nodded, taking a deep breath. “Well, as you know, my powers awoke a hundred years ago—actually, a hundred and one, now.” She paused, glancing at the painting. “On Blatchery Plain. Link was gravely injured, but the Master Sword spoke to me and told me he could be saved.”

Paya and Impa looked up at her, eyes wide. “This sword here?” Paya said, glancing at the sheathed blade beside Link.

“It speaks to me too,” Link said, quiet. “But not actual words; it’s more of a feeling.” He paused and closed his eyes, trying to steady the spinning room. “I don’t remember much from before the Calamity, but I do remember the feeling of the first time I pulled it out of the pedestal. It was as if I had come home, like an old friend greeting me.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Zelda. “And when I pulled it again six months ago—well, this may sound ridiculous, but it was as if it cried of happiness at our reunion. I felt as if I had regained a part of myself I didn’t even know I had lost.”

“Yes,” Zelda said, gazing at the sword. “When I returned the Master Sword to its pedestal, it seemed to be gravely injured as well; it was in awful condition.”

“You and that blade were inseparable, even a century ago,” Impa said. “Wherever you went, so did the blade.” She paused, closing her eyes for a moment. “I remember your father speaking to the king about you after you had first drawn it.”

Link looked up quickly, his heart squeezing. “Really?”

Impa smiled, a bittersweetness to her thin lips. “Yes. He was one of the top-ranking captains, and a well-respected knight. Though, he was adamant that the king not enlist you and instead have you return that sword right where you had found it!”

Link thought for a moment, watching Paya’s experienced hands as they tenderly wrapped his arm with a gentle cloth. He remembered nothing of his family; his only memories were the scattered ones that Zelda had left for him through the images on the Sheikah Slate. His own private memories were gone, lost to the healing powers of the Shrine of Resurrection. “Do you know how old I was when I drew the sword?” He asked, swallowing.

“Fourteen. If I remember correctly, from what your father had said, a couple of the older soldier boys had taken you into the Lost Woods as a joke and left you there. Then, the next morning, you returned to the training camp, the Master Sword strapped to your back.” She smiled. “Your father was not happy.”

“Why?” _Why wasn’t he proud of me?_

“Because he loved you,” Impa said plainly. “And while he was so proud of you for your feat and your destiny as the chosen Hero of the Goddess, he was, quite frankly, scared for you as well.”

Link bit the inside of his lip and looked down at the sheathed sword beside him. He reached a finger out and stroked the handle, listless. He still remembered nothing.

Zelda’s heart squeezed as she watched her knight. His expression broke her heart, and guilt wracked her soul. It was her fault that he couldn’t remember anything.

_But it’s because of you as well that he is still alive._

“From what you have said, it seems to me that you and that blade are tied by your very essences,” Impa said. “That does not surprise me. If the ancient legends are true, then that very sword you wield was tempered by the very first Hero, thousands upon thousands of years ago. That legend goes farther back than the story of the Hero of Time.”

“I have not heard of this legend,” Zelda said, breaking her gaze away from Link to look back at Impa. 

“You have heard parts of it; the Hero of the Sky. Apparently the Goddess Hylia had imbued a guardian of sorts within the Master Sword, as a way to assist the Hero. The details are lost to time, but the legend has been passed down through the Sheikah, as our role then was to aid the Goddess herself.” Impa thought for a moment, holding Link’s stare. “So, I am not surprised that when Link was mortally wounded and spirit nearly broken, the Master Sword was as well. Fitting that you both had one hundred years to rest and heal, and both returned to us whole once again.” She looked back at Zelda. “And you, my dear, have the blood of the Goddess herself within you. So of course the blade will be eager to help both its master and creator in whatever way it can. Now, let us continue your tale.”

Zelda blinked, taking another deep breath and glanced at Link, who was now having a poultice applied to his head wound by Paya. Slowly, she told her account of holding off Ganon within the castle, and how she had managed to do so for a century. Impa listened to her quietly, their hands still holding, for which Zelda was grateful. Though it was painful to recount, she felt a piece of herself returning with each word that escaped her lips as she recounted her long battle with the Calamity.

As she moved into when Link finally awoke, she was aware of his eyes on her profile. She told of how it had taken much of her power to send her telepathic messages to him, and that he had arrived at Hyrule Castle just in time, as she was close to no longer being able to keep Ganon imprisoned with her.

Then, she told of how valiantly Link had fought (“I was doing the duty I was supposed to do a century ago”, Link protested) and how he had brought the Dark Beast down in Hyrule Field with the Light Bow before she was able to successfully seal Ganon and cast him away.

“Then, we made our way here,” she finished, letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

Impa closed her eyes, smiling. “We watched the final battle in Hyrule Field. It was remarkable, a tale that shall be passed down for generations.” She opened her eyes and looked from Zelda to Link, and back to Zelda again. “You both have done Hyrule and the Goddesses proud; you are Hyrule’s saviors.” She glanced at Paya, who had finished tending to Link’s wounds and was filling up a vial of healing potion. She then looked out the window, which revealed only enveloping darkness. “Now, I am sure you both are utterly exhausted. Tomorrow, no doubt Kakariko will want to celebrate. We will also have to consider sending word to the different villages and cultures around Hyrule and see if they are interested in sending their representatives to us so that we may discuss how to move forward, since our Princess has returned. We will hold a feast of some sorts and invite them as a gesture of goodwill.” She paused, squinting at the ceiling for a moment before returning her gaze to Link. “The inn will have open beds; I suggest you both head there for the remainder of the night, and sleep as much as you need. You both have earned it. They will have spare clothes for you as well.”

“Thank you, Impa,” Zelda said, hugging her old friend once again.

Link stood and strapped the Master Sword to his back. “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head to Impa.

“Here, M-Master Link—go ahead and drink this,” Paya said, thrusting the vial of red liquid at him.

“Thank you Paya,” he said, and downed the vial. It had a familiarly sweet, almost strawberry taste to it. The pain in his ribs and head slowly ebbed. “I appreciate you tending to me.”

Paya blushed. “I-it was my pleasure. I-I mean it was no problem! I enjoyed it. I-I mean I enjoyed being a-able to help you! Oh Goddess,” she murmured and turned away to the stairs.

Together, Link and Zelda descended the steps outside Impa’s home. Dorian was still waiting at the bottom.

“’Lo!” He said, bowing briefly at Zelda as he beamed at them both. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of moving your horses over to the inn; I figured Master Impa would have ensured our heroes had a place to stay for the night.”

Link smiled. “Thank you, Dorian. That means a lot. We will see you tomorrow; goodnight.”

Link and Zelda walked side by side through the dirt road. A century ago, he would only have walked behind her, Zelda realized. She glanced at him, briefly mesmerized by the way the moonlight fell on his hair, bringing alive every strand. She had a sudden urge to run her fingers through it, to feel its wonderfully soft texture yet again. She blinked, trying to clear the desire, and looked ahead, painfully aware of his presence beside her as they walked silently together. He was somehow the same man, but entirely different now, too. He seemed less burdened and more free; she noticed how he spoke his mind when he wanted. He was still quiet, as was his nature, but he didn’t seem to hold the same weight as he did one hundred years ago.

“You alright, Princess?” Link said as they approached the front of the inn.

“What? Oh, yes, thank you. I am just…exhausted. It has been a long century,” she said. “And, Link—you do not have to call me Princess. Just Zelda is fine.”

“Sorry, Zelda,” he said, giving a small, lopsided grin. “I guess old habits die hard?”

She gave a small smile, and allowed him to usher her into the inn.

Link glanced behind them as he closed the door, ensuring no one was following them. He turned to the innkeeper, who was asleep at the desk, her head propped up on her hand.

Link cleared his throat, but the innkeeper did not wake. He cleared it again, this time louder, though she still did not stir. He sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Ma’am?” He said clearly.

“Wha—oh, Goddess, my apologies,” the innkeeper said, startled. She blinked blearily, looking between the two visitors. “How can I help?” she yawned.

“We’d like to book a room,” Link said, glancing at Zelda. “If you have one with two beds, that would be great.”

The innkeeper yawned again and looked at Link more closely. “Oh, wait—you’re Master Link! Master Impa said that you may be coming by tonight. Yes, there’s a room available upstairs for you at no cost. It’s the third room on the left; here’s this.” She handed him a small gold key. “You can stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Link said.

“Impa also mentioned that you may have some clothes?” Zelda asked.

The innkeeper slowly blinked at her, taking in the dirty white gown she wore. “Ah, yes.” She bent down, emerging again a few seconds later, holding a simple white peasant’s shirt, brown trousers, and black boots. “I hope these will suffice for you, ma’am.”

Zelda took the clothes into her arms and did a small curtsy. “Thank you.”

Wordlessly, she followed Link upstairs and numbly watched him fumble with the key as he unlocked the door. She had had so much adrenaline earlier, but now she felt nothing but a strong desire to lay in a comfortable bed and fall asleep for as long as possible.

The door swung open, but Link did not move forward. Zelda just stopped herself of bumping into him.

“Oh, Goddess,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Zelda asked, yawning.

He turned around to face her, blocking her way into the room. “I—uh—I thought she said that there was—well, I apologize, allow me to run back downstairs and see if she has any other—”

But Zelda had effortlessly pushed him to the side. She looked into the room. There was a closet, a rug, a window, a bedside table with a lit candle, and one double bed. She began laughing. “It’s—no—bother,” she said, unable to control herself. She gripped his forearm to steady herself, wiping a tear away.

Link blushed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She took a deep breath, still grinning. “No, you will not.” She looked up at him, her green eyes shy yet alight with mirth. “Especially not with the injuries you have sustained.” She pulled him into the room so she could close the door behind them.

Link leaned against the back of the door. “I’ve been injured worse than this. I have just a few fractured ribs—”

“And a concussion, and burns, and wounds!” Zelda interrupted. “And if you don’t mind, I am going to change into these clothes; I’m just about ready to burn this old prayer dress.”

Obediently, Link turned around to face the door, his back to Zelda. He continued. “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in the dirt and the snow with a broken collarbone; I can sleep on a rug just as happily as a dog.”

“What did you do to break your collarbone?! And why didn’t you get help?!” Zelda scolded, peeling the dirty dress off of her. She threw the dress across the room, its form silently falling beneath the window. Swiftly, she pulled on the trousers and the shirt. “Okay, you can turn around,” she said.

He turned around, shrugging. “I was fighting a Lynel on Gerudo Summit. Hit me hard, I went flying, and crack!” Link made a motion with his hand in imitation of him soaring through the air. “It was nighttime, so I just made a fire and waited till morning to make my way back down the summit.” In one swift move, Link pulled his torn Champion’s tunic off over his head, grunting as he did so.

Startled, Zelda covered her eyes and turned around. “Do you mind?!” She spoke. “A little warning would have been nice.” The half-second she saw of Link’s scarred torso and muscles was burned into her retinas. She squeezed her eyes closed even tighter, trying to hold onto the image.

Link shrugged again, throwing the Champion’s tunic to the side. He pulled the Sheikah Slate off his hip, the old but familiar startup sound perking Zelda’s ears.

“What are you doing with the Slate?” Zelda asked.

“As much as I love wearing bloody tunics, I would much rather wear clean clothes,” he said, tapping on the image of the simple grey shirt and brown trousers he had had since he first awoke. Instantly, the shirt and pants materialized in his left hand. He hooked the Slate back onto his hip and pulled the clothes on.

“There,” he said. “You can turn back around.”

Huffing, Zelda pulled her hands from her eyes and turned around to face her knight. “That’s quite amazing that the Slate is able to hold items.” She bit her lip, eyeing it. “Would you let me borrow it some time to examine?”

“Yes, of course, Zelda,” Link said, sitting down on the rug.

Zelda widened her eyes. “What are you doing?! I will not let you sleep on the floor, I—I forbid it!” She pursed her lips. “I will sleep on the floor instead.”

Link raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her. “No,” he said simply.

Zelda looked at him, aghast. “What do you mean, ‘no’?! Get up off of my sleeping spot!”

“I mean it—you are the Princess of Hyrule, you are not sleeping on the floor of an inn.”

“Well, as your Princess, I forbid you from forbidding me to sleep on the floor!” She retorted tartly. “I’ve been battling evil for the past one hundred years—I can handle sleeping on a rug. If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll release you from my service as my knight.” 

Link looked at her, then bowed his head, exasperated. “Alright, Princess.” He stood up, bowed at the waist to her, and promptly sat down on the bed, unhooking the Sheikah Slate from his hip and dropping it on the bedside table. He unfastened the Master Sword and leaned it up against the table as well.

Zelda still stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed as she watched him pull off his boots and roll out his neck. He looked up at her, wiggling his toes. “What?”

Zelda blinked. “Nothing,” she said. She sat down on the rug and copied Link, pulling off her sandals. “Will you toss me one of those pillows?” she said evenly.

Link grunted and pulled one of the feather-soft pillows off the bed, throwing it to her. “Thanks, she said, and laid down, resting her head on the pillow as she curled up on the rug. She closed her eyes.

Link pulled back the covers and slipped between the sheets, sighing gently as he rested his head on the pillow. He gingerly rolled over to look at Zelda, grunting slightly as a small shot of pain went through his chest. He was struck by the way the moonlight danced upon her golden hair; she truly looked like a divine goddess. For one second, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. That same deep, roaring voice echoed within him again, _you are mine to protect._

He cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight Link,” she responded.

Link blew out the candle, and the room was enveloped with darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Zelda woke up suddenly. She was shivering.

For a moment, she didn’t know where she was—she thought she was back inside Ganon, keeping his evil at bay—but as her eyes adjusted to the moonlit bedroom, she remembered. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour.

But, still, she was shivering, and she couldn’t feel her fingertips or toes. She sat up, arms wrapped around herself, as her eyes found the moonlit form of Link within the bedsheets.

_He wouldn’t mind, would he?_ She thought. _No, I shouldn’t—that would be quite immodest of me._ She could feel her teeth chattering in her skull. _Din damn it all, I’m freezing, and it’s not like there’s a royal court to judge me anymore._

She stood up and gingerly took a few steps toward the bed, her heart racing. Link was on the far side, the sheets covering up to his chin. So, he was cold too, she vaguely realized. Quietly, she pulled back the sheet slightly so she could slip under the covers.

An immediate heat hit her full body as soon as she laid down. She sighed happily, giving herself into the simple pleasure of his warmth.

Link sensed movement beside him and groggily raised his head. “S’matter?”

“Nothing,” Zelda whispered. “Just cold.”

Link nodded and rolled over to face her, his eyes bleary as he grinned. “Not very princess-y of you, is it?”

Zelda pulled the covers up to her nose to hide her smile. “Oh, shut it.”

Link chuckled and wriggled slightly closer to her. “C’mere,” he said softly.

Without hesitation, Zelda pulled herself closer to her knight. She let herself sink further into his warmth, into his touch as he wrapped his arms around her. This was too familiar for her; was it familiar for him, too? He rested his chin above her head, nose in her hair. He took in a deep breath, inhaling her every scent—distinctly flowers, grass, and parchment paper. His heart skipped a beat.

Their bare feet briefly touched before he jerked his legs back. “Goddess, you _are_ cold, aren’t you? Your feet are freezing!”

Zelda giggled and smiled, nuzzling her face into his chest. She didn’t care that he was her knight, that she was a royal princess, that she had the Goddess’ blood flowing through her or that he was the Chosen Hero. All she cared about was that she had gone one hundred years without him, and couldn’t bear to go another second without his presence beside her. Nothing mattered anymore—they were free to do as they pleased. She didn’t think that he remembered her stolen looks or touches when no one was looking, before the Calamity, or the secret kisses he had given her--but she didn’t care, because now was all that mattered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday/Valentine’s Day, and welcome back to another chapter! 😊   
> As always, leave a follow/favorite/review if you feel so inclined! Every notification I get makes my heart swell with gratefulness and happiness.

**Chapter 3**

Peaceful sleep was not a perquisite that Link was accustomed to; his nights for the past year were spent sitting upright besides campfires, up in trees, or within decrepit buildings, always with his sword across his lap, palm on the handle. Even when he slept in the various inns across Hyrule, or within his own house in Hateno, his sleep was broken by anxieties and dreams of wispy memories that he could never remember. 

This morning, however, Link slowly emerged from the depths of deep sleep, a subtle sense of tranquility seeping throughout his skin.

He was wrapped in smooth, silky sheets, with streaming sunlight gently warming his closed eyelids. For once, he thought of nothing.

A quiet _tink tink_ drifted towards his ears. He cracked one eye to find Zelda standing at the window, gently stirring a small white cup of tea with a spoon as she stared outside. There was a slight frizz to her golden hair, as if it had been wetted and was now drying under the sunlight. Her lips were pushed together tightly, eyebrows knitted together.

It was as if she could sense him looking at her; she turned to him and smiled. “Good morning sleepyhead,” she said. She gestured to an identical small cup sitting on the bedside table. “The innkeeper kindly left us some tea; I brought it in.”

Link sat up and slowly stretched, groaning slightly at the stabbing sensation in his ribs. “Good morning. I hope you slept well,” he said, attempting to sound as casual as possible. Internally, he was panicking slightly, because he realized that he had _actually_ slept beside the Princess of Hyrule; what was he thinking?! He reached over to pick up the tea.

She looked back out the window and took a sip, trying to hide her small grin in the cup. “I haven’t slept for a century, so very well, thank you.” She decided against mentioning the dark dreams of her being back within Ganon, and instead focused on how safe she felt being wrapped in Link’s warm arms. “And you?”

He noted how she didn’t seem bothered by the indecorous act of him laying beside her. _But wasn’t it her that slipped into your sheets?_ A small voice asked. “Good,” he said. “I don’t remember the last time I slept like that. Well, besides my century sleep—didn’t exactly wake up refreshed,” he added dryly. He decided against mentioning the impulse to grab the sword when he had heard her wake up, and instead focused on how wonderful and strangely familiar it felt holding her as they slept. He took a gulp of tea, finishing the cup quickly.

“Impa left a message for us as well; said to meet her in her home whenever it is convenient for us. I am assuming she would like to further the discussion on what to do next,” Zelda said, placing her emptied cup of tea on the bedside table. Briskly, she brought her hair over her shoulder and began braiding it, nimble fingers moving quickly through the pieces.

Link nodded. He pulled his boots on and picked up the Sheikah Slate, tapping on his green Hylian tunic. It materialized in his hand; he quickly switched out his grey shirt for the tunic. He seized the Master Sword and clasped around his chest. He was not too concerned over danger to Zelda while in Kakariko, but wanted to ensure her protection, nonetheless.

After they both readied themselves, they headed downstairs. With a friendly wave to the innkeeper, Link opened the door for Zelda. She gasped as she looked below at the main dirt road of Kakariko.

A whole crowd had gathered, talking quietly amongst themselves until they spotted Link and Zelda. Immediately they began clapping, some jumping, some bowing, as they shouted their hurrahs and whoops.

Zelda gulped, her eyes darting around at the many different faces in the crowd. She hadn’t been expecting this. Immediately, Link was there. He gently put his hand on her shoulder and stood in front of her. She followed one step behind him as they descended the stairs, her heart racing.

Thankfully, the crowd parted as they approached, though they only seemed to get louder in their clapping and hollering. Link subtly grabbed her wrist, leading her forward.

“Master Link, we saw what happened yesterday—thank you!”

“You’re a real hero, you know that?! Just like the swordsman from a hundred years ago!”

“He _is_ that hero, you fool!”

“You’ve saved us all—thank you, thank you, Master Link and Princess Zelda!”

“Are you really the Princess?”

Zelda halted in her tracks, bringing Link to a stop as well. She looked down at the source of the small voice. A young girl no older than seven was standing amongst the crowd, her wide, red Sheikah eyes looking up at Zelda.

Smiling, Zelda crouched down so she was eye level with the girl. “Yes,” she affirmed, “I am.”

The girl’s eyes widened further. Cautiously, the girl took a step towards Zelda, who put out a hand. The girl placed her own small palm within Zelda’s, looking down in wonder at their conjunction. “My father says that you were born a long time ago, but that you stopped some really bad monster yesterday, with the help of Master Link,” she said, eyes darting towards the knight.

Zelda nodded. “That’s right,” she said. She glanced up at Link, who was making polite conversation with the villagers, awkwardly brushing off the endless thanks and compliments. Zelda smiled again. “I couldn’t have done so if it wasn’t for my friend, Master Link. What’s your name?”

Without hesitation, the girl took another step forward and gently grabbed Zelda’s braid. “Cottla. You’re beautiful, just like my mother,” she said simply.

Suddenly, another young girl emerged from the crowd, though she appeared older than Cottla. The older girl grabbed Cottla’s wrist, gentle yet firm.

Cottla released Zelda’s hair. “Come on, stop bothering the Princess!” The older girl said, pulling her away from Zelda. The girl looked up at her and bowed. “Sorry, Princess; my sister doesn’t understand personal boundaries, sometimes. She’s only seven.” She thought for a moment, straightening her back and lifting her chin. “My name is Koko.”

Zelda smiled. “It was wonderful to meet you both, Koko and Cottla.” She glanced at Link, who looked back at her from the corner of his eye, expression calm and patient as always. “I must be going, though. We have a very important meeting with Lady Impa just now.” She stood and gave a small curtsy to the girls, who returned the gesture, giggling.

Together, Link and Zelda made their way back to Impa’s home, the crowd following them but thinning as they did so, respecting their village elder’s abode. Link and Zelda entered the house to find Impa sitting in her usual seat, legs crossed, and Paya sitting at a desk with a quill and multiple parchments in her hand.

They both looked up. “Ah, good day to you both. Link, I told you before—you have no need to bow to me,” she chastised him as he began to obeisance.

“H-how are you feeling this morning, M-Master Link?” Paya asked.

Link gave a nod. “Better; thank you again for your help. It was much needed. That potion worked wonders overnight.”

Paya blushed. “I-I’m always happy to! And I-I’m happy to make some more of that healing potion if you’re of need.”

“I trust you slept well?” Impa asked politely.

Zelda nodded. “Yes, thank you Impa- it was a much-needed rest.”

“Good. Now, I apologize for my haste, but I am eager to further our conversation of restoring Hyrule to its former glory—and you, its rightful heir, to the throne,” Impa said. Zelda gave a small half-smile, though Link noticed the tenseness in her shoulders. “Now, just as I mentioned last night, I think it would be best to write letters to the leaders of each of the clans scattered around Hyrule and ask if they would be willing to send representatives, if not themselves, to our modest village.”

Link nodded. “I agree; I know for certain that the Zora will be happy to assist in restoring the monarchy, as will the Gorons. Gerudo will, most likely; it’s just the Rito that I am not completely certain of. I wouldn’t see why not, though.” He scratched his chin, his mind wandering to the Rito village elder, Kaneli. At their first meeting, Kaneli seemed to recognize the Sheikah Slate that sat upon Link’s hip. “I think they would be interested as well.”

Impa nodded slowly. “Would you mind recounting to Paya the names of the leaders and representatives so that she may write them down in the letters?”

Link turned to Paya. “There’s the Gerudo chief, Riju, and her guard Buliara—though, knowing Riju, she will want to act as the representative as well. She will come herself, I am sure. Of the Rito, there’s the village elder Kaneli, and the warrior Teba. Boss Bludo of the Gorons, and Yunobo—who is Daruk’s grandson.” Link paused, a dim memory of Daruk patting him roughly on the back passing through his mind. “Lastly, there’s King Dorephan of the Zora, and his son, Prince Sidon—he will most likely act as representative.”

Zelda’s eyebrows shot up. “King Dorephan is still with us?” She interlaced her fingers. “And young Prince Sidon, he’s—he must be fully grown by now.”

“Yes, and they both remember you fondly,” Link said, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Wonderful,” Impa said. “We are lucky that you have had such good relations with the various peoples of Hyrule. Now,” she continued, “I am hoping that they will want to join us here for a lovely feast and civil political discussions…”

But Zelda stopped listening. She chewed her lip; did she really want to be burdened again with a heavy crown? Her political and leadership teachings had been minimal, as most of her time in the castle was spent praying in desperate attempt to awaken her power. She understood the basics of ruling, of course; but she had no idea how to handle trade or commerce, or what to do if another nation—if they even still existed—decided to go to war with them.

_I will not be able to just seal them away,_ she thought sardonically.

And then there was the question of if the people even wanted to return to a monarchy ruling over them. They had gone a century without one and seemed to be getting on just fine without her and her family.

A small, selfish part of her did not want the responsibility of becoming queen because she wanted to have the freedom to roam, explore, and study the world, which she had been denied her entire life.

She sighed.

“Princess? Are you alright?”

Link’s voice snapped Zelda back into the moment. She looked at him, blinking. “I, uh…may I take a moment outside?”

Without waiting for their permission, Zelda turned on her heel and strode out onto the portico of the home.

She took a deep breath, letting the cool mountain air fill up her lungs, before exhaling slowly. She watched the children of Kakariko playing together out in the dirt road; one little boy was brandishing a thin stick at the two girls, chasing them around as they squealed.

Suddenly, Link was beside her. His presence was, as it always had been, reassuring to her. He made her feel safe. He was steadfast in his dedication to her, and always would be, Zelda realized. Whether that be as her knight, or…

“I’m sorry, I just—I just needed a bit of fresh air,” Zelda said, not looking at him. She tightened her grip on the balcony.

“I understand,” he said quietly. Without warning, he placed his warm hand over hers, and watched the children play too.

They said nothing for a few moments, letting the peace of the day settle in their minds. There were no battles to be fought, no evil to endure any longer—though their next responsibility was to restore Hyrule.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Link said. “Be queen.”

Zelda blinked and looked at him. He looked back, his blue eyes searching her own green ones. 

“You’ve done so much for Hyrule; if you are done, then that’s okay. You’ve sacrificed more than most people.”

Zelda stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She pursed her lips and looked back at the children. One of the girls had managed to steal the stick, and was now chasing the boy with it. “It isn’t that I don’t want to work for Hyrule; with every fiber of my being, I want to serve my country. This land is my home and I want to help its people. I want to see every corner of it.” She paused. “But if I am being truthful—I don’t know how to be queen. I don’t know how to rule. I wasn’t taught any of it! My father had me praying every day since my mother died; there was no time for formal political education. I’m just not sure how much use I would be as queen; I can give no direction for how things are supposed to be run! I just—the only thing I am good at is field study and sealing away evil, and even that I was barely able to do,” she ended bitterly.

Link sighed and turned, looking at her. “We are picking up the pieces of your broken kingdom, yes; but that doesn’t mean that we have to continue where it was left off. We can start anew. Start new traditions and rules. I—” he paused and looked down, scratching his chin. “I think,” he continued slowly, “that if you don’t want to be overly involved in the finer details, then you don’t have to be. You could have a council that governed Hyrule and only consulted you for advice or major decisions, or something.”

Zelda thought for a moment. “Like a constitutional monarch? That would leave me able to travel, visit the people, and study,” she said. “I think that may work. And the council could be made up of equal representation from each of Hyrule’s regions. If the regions agree, of course,” she added. “But I’m not convinced that they would want me as their queen, regardless of what decisions they may make on the future governance of Hyrule.”

“Zelda,” he said softly, “I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t want you as their queen.” Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Link bowed and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it.

Zelda’s face flushed; fireworks erupted inside of her chest.

_He is mine,_ stirred something deep and ancient inside of her.

Straightening, Link gave her a small smile and led her back into Impa’s home. Together, they explained their idea of having a representative council govern Hyrule, with Zelda acting as the head, her title as Queen retained for traditional and ceremonial purposes.

Impa nodded slowly. “Yes, I think this is a grand idea. We will pitch it to the representatives when they arrive. Paya? Dear, will you read out one of the letters so that Link and the Princess may sign it?”

Paya nodded and cleared her throat.

_“To the Honorable King Dorephan—”_ she paused. “The name w-will change depending on who it is addressed to,” she added before continuing.

_“It is with joyful hearts that we write this letter to you. As your Highness may or may not be aware, Sir Link has conquered the beast that has plagued our capital for the last century—Calamity Ganon. One hundred years ago, Princess Zelda had managed to defend our land from this evil by using the ancient sealing power given to her by the Goddess Hylia herself, and has been doing so since then. Together, Sir Link and Princess Zelda sealed away the Calamity and have restored peace to our country._

_We would like to invite your Highness and a representative of your choosing to our humble village of Kakariko in the Necluda region, for a formal week of feasts and festivities in celebration of the defeat of the Calamity. If your Highness is so inclined, we would also like to begin discussions of how to best help Hyrule heal and move forth._

_We are hoping to hold these festivities in one full moon cycle. Please send word back via this wood pigeon regarding your decision._

_Happy regards,_

_Lady Impa of the Sheikah.”_

Paya looked up. “I-If you both approve, would you please sign your names below my grandmother’s?”

Zelda nodded picked up the quill, though she hesitated before writing out, in perfect, loopy handwriting, ‘ _Princess Zelda Bosphoramus of Hyrule’_. She handed the quill to Link. Messily, he signed ‘ _Link’_ below Zelda’s name.

Zelda glanced at his shambolic signature and frowned. “You should put ‘Sir’ in front of your name; you are a knight, you know. Your origin as well, if you remember it,” she added carefully. 

Link shrugged and scribbled down _‘Sir’_ and ‘ _of Hateno’_ before and after his name, respectively. “I bought a house in Hateno a few months ago, so I guess I’m from there. I don’t remember otherwise,” he added dryly.

Quickly, Link and Zelda rewrote their signatures again on the following three letters, which were all identical to the first one except they were addressed to the other leaders.

“Well, that’s that I guess,” Impa said as Paya carefully blew on the parchments, trying to dry the ink before she rolled them up. “We’ll have those sent out today by wood pigeon; they should get to their respective locations by end of week.

“Now,” she continued, “I believe the village is setting up for a feast in your honor, if you are both interested in appeasing the masses.”

Link and Zelda both nodded. “We would be honored; we are forever grateful to the kindness Kakariko has shown us,” Zelda said.

“Wonderful. I believe there will be great food and music this afternoon.” She smiled, her eyes unfocusing as she stared at something behind Link and Zelda. “My husband was a musician, you know. I do not know if you remember him, Princess, but he was the Court Poet.”

Zelda pursed her lips and looked at her friend, really seeing her age for the first time. “I do remember him,” she said softly.

“He detested me,” Link uttered suddenly. Impa and Zelda looked at him, heads cocked. “He was Kass’s mentor, wasn’t he? The Rito musician.”

Impa nodded. “He was. Kass was such a good student; I haven’t seen him since my husband’s funeral years ago.”

“Kass told me that his mentor—your husband—felt I was neither nobility nor royalty. Kind of like how Revali felt about me if I remember correctly,” Link added.

“What prompted him to tell you this?” Zelda asked.

Link’s face turned scarlet. He suddenly wished that he hadn’t said anything. “I—well…” he glanced between Impa and Zelda, feeling awkward. “Kass had been telling me about himself and his past,” he lied, not willing to state that Impa’s husband had, in fact, fallen in love with the Princess. “We ran into each other at one of the stables in western Hyrule.”

According to Kass, the reason his mentor hated him so was because the Princess of Hyrule had, in fact, had eyes for her personal knight. Link didn’t know and didn’t remember if this was true, or if it was just a singer spinning songs to make up for unrequited love.

Zelda eyed him for a moment, but finally she looked back to Impa. “I do remember your husband; Cecil was his name, wasn’t it?” She smiled to herself. “He always had such beautiful poems and songs that he would sing for us.”

“I remember Grandfather singing to me when I was young,” Paya added. “H-he had such a beautiful voice, even up to when he died.”

Impa chuckled. “Indeed he did. He was a good man.” She sighed. “I had best not keep you two here, stuck in the past with me. Go on, enjoy the rest of the day with the village,” she smiled.

Thanking Impa and taking their leave, Link and Zelda left, descending the staircase. Outside, the villagers had already moved two large wooden tables into the dirt road and were busy lining them with a multitude of food options. Link’s mouth started watering, making him realize just how hungry he was. The upbeat plucks of a fiddle began, bringing Link into a more cheerful disposition as the notes hit his ears.

Villagers waved at them, grinning. Link and Zelda waved back and approached the table, beginning to mingle with the families that were setting the food.

By this time, Zelda’s true identity had spread through Kakariko like wildfire; everyone knew what had happened and her heritage. With deference to her, each person she met either bowed or curtsied, to which Zelda meekly responded there was no need for that, though they did so anyways and addressed her as “Your Highness” and “Princess”. Link’s hand was grasped hard and shaken firmly many times, with many eyes admiring the sword strapped to his back. More than one man had asked him to unsheathe it, but Link politely refused to do so.

“Master Link!”

Link whipped around, licking a finger as he polished off the last of a grilled Cucco leg. He looked down to see a boy no older than twelve standing in front of him, with a cohort of four other young children behind. “Yes?” Link said, swallowing.

“I—we were wondering if you would let us see your sword,” the boy said.

Link licked his teeth, thinking. “What’s your name?”

“Kenzo,” the boy said, standing up straighter.

Link looked at the giggling children huddled behind Kenzo. He nodded and unstrapped the Master Sword from his back. He knelt down, holding the sword’s scabbard firmly between his calloused hands. Kenzo tentatively reached a hand out to touch the decorated scabbard, but Link pulled it back.

“You have to promise me that you will only touch the handle,” Link said seriously, staring Kenzo in the eyes.

Kenzo lifted his chin and nodded.

“Alright. Go on then,” Link said. Hesitantly, Kenzo ran a single finger over the winged cross-guard. He pulled back quickly, eyes wide and smile big. Feeling slightly braver, he ran two fingers along the grip and pommel, digits tracing the ridges.

“My father says that this is a magical sword; is that true?” he asked.

Link nodded. “It is.”

“Wow,” Kenzo said. He dropped his hand back to his side and stared up at Link, his red eyes wide in amazement.

_Wack!_

Link yelped and grabbed the back of his head, a stinging sensation travelling through his scalp. He whipped around to see a young girl in a dirtied dress standing there, a long, thin stick raised in her hand.

They stared at each other for a beat.

“Monster!” She shrieked, running off.

Link quickly clasped the Master Sword on his back. Suddenly, there were six children surrounding him, all of which were brandishing thin sticks as swords.

Link got into a squat and threw his arms out like a Bokoblin. He eyed each of the kids menacingly. “I’m going to eat each and every one of you!”

“Get him!” One of the girls yelled, and all of them immediately started whacking him with their sticks.

Half laughing, half growling, Link ran away from the horde of children as they chased him around, shrieking and giggling. He had to stop a few times and take some shallow breaths in order assuage the stinging sensation of his ribs, but quickly got back up into the game of monster and knights.

Zelda was watching this playful romp out of the corner of her eye while she half-listened to a woman tell of the stories her great-grandmother had passed onto her of what Hyrule was like a century ago.

_He would make a wonderful father,_ she thought vaguely. She blinked a few times, startling herself. _He is only eighteen!_

_A hundred and nineteen, actually,_ another voice in her head said.

“…and she said that the Castle would hold big, beautiful ballroom dances, and all the ladies would wear such beautiful gowns, and the men would look so dashing in their frock coats! Did you wear such a gown, Princess? What color was it? I’m sure it was the most beautiful!”

“Mhm. Uhm, blue, I think,” Zelda said in a voice that was rather vague.

“I’m sure it was the most beautiful out of all the ladies’ gowns!” The woman repeated, smiling up at Zelda.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zelda saw a tall man approaching her. She turned, eyeing him as he reached them. Smiling, the man bowed deeply. He rose and looked at the Sheikah woman. “I hope you won’t mind,” he said, voice rich as honey, “but I would like to take a moment with Her Highness.”

Stuttering, the woman nodded, curtsied to Zelda, and walked off back into the crowd.

“Princess,” the man said. “I just wanted to thank you for your service to Hyrule.”

Zelda looked him over. He was well dressed in Sheikah clothing, but his eyes were as yellow as a hawk and his skin was a deep tan.

She held his gaze. “It was my duty, and I am thankful to the Goddess that we were able to defend our land.”

Link, who was currently laying in the dirt, trying to defend himself against the stick-sword assaults, glanced up at Zelda. She was speaking politely with a tall man. Link declared himself defeated to the children and stood up, brushing them off. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the man converse with his charge.

Zelda nodded, and the man bowed. Almost subconsciously, Link reached a hand up and gently touched the handle of the Master Sword as the man walked away. Link’s eyes followed him into the crowd, where he began talking with a young Sheikah woman.

Link looked back at Zelda, who met his eyes. He dropped his hand from the sword and walked over to her.

“Who was that?” Link asked.

Zelda shrugged. “He just came over to thank me for sealing away the Calamity. He said his name was Abigor of Lurelin Village; he informed me that he is a travelling merchant who happened to be here with his fiancée when we were in Hyrule Field,” she said.

Link grunted but said nothing.

“Master Link and the lovely Princess!” A hunched over Sheikah man approached them, colorful paint spattered along his bare shoulders and a wide smile on his face. He was holding a canvas under his arm. He bowed slightly to them both.

“Pikango!” Link said. “How nice to see you here during this celebration. Princess, this is Pikango, a very talented travelling Sheikah artist. He helped me multiple times on my journey.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Zelda said, inclining her head to him.

“I am so thankful to the Goddess that I have lived to see this day! I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to commemorate it with a painting—you see, I typically paint only landscapes as I’m not very good with people, but—well, here.” He turned the canvas around.

Both Link and Zelda gasped. It was a stunning, colorful portrait of the village. The Princess and her knight, however, were in the middle, smiling and laughing, surrounded by the people, who were not quite as detailed, but still had happy expressions. Children were painted alongside Link, brandishing sticks, laughing. The Master Sword’s hilt gleamed at Link’s shoulder. Zelda seemed to be glowing with a slightly ethereal light around her head.

“This is stunning,” Link said. 

“I…it’s beautiful,” Zelda murmured, eyes roaming the canvas. She looked up at the artist. “I am so unbelievably moved by this, Mr. Pikango.” She took his free hand into her own, staring seriously into his eyes. “Thank you.”

Pikango blushed and looked away. “I, well, thank you, Princess. This was just such an important celebration that I wanted to capture it as best as I could.” He turned the canvas slightly back to him so he could look back over it. “I did it so quickly but had to get it onto the canvas as soon as I could.”

“If—when,” she corrected herself, “we return Hyrule Castle to its former self, I want your paintings to hang there. With your blessing, of course,” Zelda added.

Pikango stuttered. “I—oh, Hylia, what an honor that would be!” He grinned at her, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “Thank you, Princess. You are just as kind as the old tales said you were.”

He bowed to her and took his leave, wiping his eyes as he did so.

Zelda let out a breath and looked up. “It’s getting late,” she said, eyeing the bright pinpricks of stars in the blackening velvet of the evening sky.

Link nodded, passively watching the villagers socialize amongst themselves, some of them eating, some of them dancing to the fiddle. Small, bright green fireflies were beginning to emerge amongst the people.

“The kingdom seems to have changed in so many ways; the people are much more independent now,” Zelda said quietly. “The land is so wild, too. I’m…I’m not sure we should try to tame it again. What if it doesn’t want to be domesticated?”

“Ultimately that’s your decision,” Link said, sceneries of the agrestal lands coming to the front of his mind. “But I’ve seen almost every inch of Hyrule and breathed in its wilds for a year now. I think it is ready to be reclaimed. I think the people will be willing to help you settle it again. There is finally peace; no one has to just survive anymore.”

Zelda looked at him, his handsome profile illuminated by the soft light of the lanterns and the fireflies. Her eyes traced his jawline, and how it perfectly angled itself into his neck.

“You’re right,” she said, and slipped her hand into his. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back to another chapter! This one is a bit shorter than usual, but you have to end the scene where you feel is right. Also, happy 35th anniversary to the Legend of Zelda, AKA the best series in the world IMO! Anyone else excited about Skyward Sword HD on the Switch? I know that they didn’t release any news about BotW2, but hopefully they’ll say something soon.   
> As always, leave a favorite/review if you enjoyed! 😊

**Chapter 4**

_Danger._

_Master, we are in danger._

_Protect her._

_Protect her now!_

Link snapped open his eyes.

Open window. Smoke.

A masked, tall, red-clad man in their room.

A foreign hand on the hilt of the Master Sword.

Instinct took over.

Link threw himself over Zelda, whose eyes flew open, in an attempt to yank the Master Sword away from the Yiga man. Instead, though, his hand grabbed the scabbard as the Yiga wrenched the sword out of its sheath.

The blade gleamed, the steel pulsating a gentle blue glow in protest. 

_No, this is not right, this is not right—_

Without effort, the Yiga lifted the blade and swiftly brought it down upon Link. He deflected with the decorative scabbard, heart racing.

Quickly, Link pushed back against the man and hoisted himself onto his feet, standing with his back to Zelda, who was still half-covered by the sheets of the bed. She looked up at the back of Link’s head, her eyes wide in fear and confusion. She, too, could sense the panic of the sword being wielded by someone other than its Master.

The Yiga stared at Link, his white mask hiding his expressions. In a flash, he leaped at Link again, but the Hero was too quick- he parried the strike with the scabbard, pushing back against the blow.

However, Link knew he was at a disadvantage: they were in a small space, his weapon was not a weapon at all, his opponent was wielding _his_ sword, and, most importantly, Link had to ensure he was protecting Zelda at all times. He knew he could not leave the bedside, as that would expose her to the attacker. 

_Oh, Hylia,_ he thought to himself as the Yiga tried to side-slash him. Once again, Link was fast, ducking away from the attack and side-stepping so he suddenly was on his opponent’s other hand. Seeing his advantage, Link yelled and raised the hollow scabbard, whacking the man as hard as he could on the side of his head. The Yiga grunted and swung around, off-kilter for one step. Instinctively, Link lunged forward to whack him again, but the Yiga ducked and slashed out at Link, who narrowly avoided the point of the blade.

_How is he doing this?!_

The Sheikah Slate was out of reach, as was his shield; the Slate was tucked inside the bedside table drawer, and the shield was propped against the dresser on the other side of the room. He had no time or space to grab either, without exposing Zelda.

_Please, Master!_

Link deflected the next attack, trying to cut through the terrified feelings that both he and the sword were suffering, and instead focus on figuring out a plan of action. He had been in worse scrapes than this, right?

But never with his own blade being used against him. What was he, if not a swordsman without his sword? He stupidly let his guard down, thinking that they were safe, that Zelda was safe. How could he be such a fool?!

Petrified, Zelda watched the fight, her knees pulled tight to her chest as she sat on the bed, back against the wall. Link beat back blow after blow, using the scabbard as a makeshift shield and sword, keeping his back to her to stop the Yiga man from getting through. She coughed and sputtered, glancing at the black smoke that filtered in through the open window.

Zelda’s heart dropped. “Link, look out!”

Wildly, Link spun around, narrowly avoiding the blade’s path to his neck.

There were two Yiga now— _that bastard must have gotten in through the window,_ Link vaguely realized, before deflecting the wielded Demon Carver of the second man. He ducked and side-jumped, desperately trying to keep the attention of the two Yiga on himself, whacking them where he could with the scabbard.

But it was not enough; he knew it. He did not know what to do. Panic was rising within him; consternation during combat was not something he was accustomed to.

_Master—_

The Yiga man who wielded the Master Sword came at Link again and again; he was getting angry, Link understood, as he staved off the relentless attacks. The expert swordsman within Link recognized the impatient nature of the strikes. He dodged the next blow, sending the man off-balance again, and used this opening to punch him in the face.

The man grunted and stumbled back a step, putting his hand to his mask. It had cracked; angrily, the man ripped it off, sending it to the ground where it shattered.

It was him. The tall, deeply tanned, hawk-eyed man from Lurelin. _What was the bastard’s name? Abigor?_ Link thought vaguely, mentally kicking himself for not trusting his instincts at the feast.

“I should have killed you both yesterday,” the man snarled, before lunging again. 

“Get back!” Zelda shrieked.

Link glanced behind him, his heart dropping like lead. The other Yiga man had used the time while Link was distracted to approach her, Demon Carver wielded high. Zelda thrust out a hand, a glowing light beginning to emanate from her palm.

Link whipped around, disregarding Abigor, and reached out a hand in an attempt to grab the other Yiga, to stop him from slaughtering Zelda.

He did not feel it at first. All the adrenaline and fear for Zelda coursing through his veins dimmed any perception of pain.

It was just bone-chilling cold.

But the sword was screaming.

Zelda watched in horror. Time seemed to slow down. Link had turned around to try and protect her, had completely disparaged his own safety—and Abigor had taken this opening to thrust the panicking, expostulating sword through Link.

_You have failed._

He sputtered and looked down at the point of the blade that had been embedded through his abdomen, its tip glinting red in the smokey moonlight. Red blood was beginning to blossom down his green tunic. He met Zelda’s eyes.

“NO!” She cried, and suddenly a large burst of white energy emerged around her. The Yiga man with the Demon Carver was thrown backwards, his body hitting the wardrobe with a resounding _crack!_ The energy continued to expand outwards, beyond the walls of the room. Abigor quickly yanked the Master Sword out of Link with a sickening _schlick_ and wrenched the scabbard out of his hand, before disappearing in a puff of red smoke.

But Zelda’s eyes were tightly shut; she felt as she had during the past century, as if she were ethereal, seeing all but seeing none—she could hear the panicked blade, could sense the spirit of the Hero slowly ebbing away, could feel the Goddess herself weeping—

And suddenly it was over. The expanding light disappeared, and she returned to her place on the bed.

Abigor was gone, as was the Master Sword.

But Link was still there, having stumbled onto his knees, one hand pressed tightly to his bleeding abdomen, his other propped on the floor as he tried to keep himself from falling over. He looked frantically up at her before he finally fell with a grunt.

“Oh, Link, oh no—” Quickly, she hopped down from the bed and sat beside him. She pulled him into her lap, morbidly reminded of a century ago on Blatchery Plain.

“Y-you’re going to be okay,” she said, placing a hand on his abdomen in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. He was terrifyingly pale. “It’s okay,” Zelda said again, tears filling her eyes.

Link looked up at her, his blue eyes—which were normally calm, kind, and strong—wild, panicked, and weary. He was breathing hard, yet shallow. He sputtered and reached a bloodied hand up to Zelda’s cheek, touching it softly.

“I’m sorry—” he sputtered.

“Stop that, you’re going to be fine,” Zelda said, her voice quivering. “Mipha’s Grace—”

Link grunted and shook his head once. “T-they’re gone—”

And suddenly Zelda understood, her heart dropping. The powerful gifts that the Champions had conferred onto Link had been taken away once Link had fulfilled his role as the Hero and their spirits were finally at rest.

Link’s hand fell away, leaving bloodied marks on Zelda’s cheek. His head lolled back as he went limp, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“Link? Link!” she cried, panic rising in her. She watched his chest. It quickly rose and fell in the rhythm of breath. _He still has a chance._ She started screaming for someone, anyone, to come and help.

Miraculously, two Sheikah men burst into the room, wielding eightfold blades.

“Princess!” One of them said. “Are you alright? Lady Impa sent us to ensure—” he stopped, taking in the scene of the Princess on her knees, her knight limp in her arms, blood covering them both.

Zelda looked up at them. “Please, you have to help—there is still time to save him! Take him to Paya now!” She pleaded.

Nodding, the two Sheikah men gently picked up Link. Moving quickly, they carried him down the stairs and out of the inn, Zelda following closely behind as she wiped her tears away. She felt as if she was in a nightmare, that she was back within Ganon, trapped in one of his terrifying visions.

_How is this happening again? The danger was supposed to end with the Calamity!_

Zelda wiped away another flood of tears, smearing blood across her cheek, her lungs burning from the smoke that clung to the air outside. The Yiga had come in the middle of the night and attacked the village, burning their crops and homes, she realized. Anger rose in her as she looked around. Some villagers were working together to try to dowse the flames with buckets of water, while others were gathering children and animals and taking them away from the danger.

Shaking, she followed the Sheikah men up the staircase to Impa’s home, following them inside. Impa was sitting in her usual place on the cushions, and Paya was standing beside her, talking quietly. Both were dressed in sleeping robes. They quickly turned as the group entered.

“Oh, Goddess—is that Master Link? Here, lay him down,” Paya said as she pulled a table over, her face going white as she glanced over Link’s bloodied unconscious body.

“He’s still alive, but barely,” she said, her voice wavering as she looked him over. She turned to the Sheikah men. “I need help—I-I need my mentor. Go find Master Aeson and bring him here!”

The men gave a small bow and ran off through the front doors as Paya began pulling back the tunic to get a better look at the wound. She quickly reached into a small cupboard and pulled out rolls of white cloth. “This cloth has been laced with juice from daisies,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else. “They have hemostatic properties…”

“How did this happen?” Impa said calmly, looking at Zelda.

“Impa—they took it. It’s gone,” Zelda said, tears forming in her eyes as she looked at Link.

Impa blinked at her, her thin mouth tensing. “What is gone?”

Zelda waved vaguely. “The Master Sword. One of the Yiga picked it up and—and…”

Impa inhaled sharply. “They were able to—the Sword allowed itself to be used against its Master?”

“It did not want to be. It was trying to fight back, but...” Zelda gulped as another lump formed in her throat. “I recognized him, too. His mask came off,” she said, feeling numb. “He spoke to me last night; said his name was Abigor.” Goosebumps erupted across her arms.

How had she not suspected anything yesterday?

Impa said nothing, intently watching her granddaughter desperately attempt to save Link’s life. Within minutes, the elderly Sheikah healer Aeson had arrived, his clothes smelling of smoke. He looked at Paya, then down at Link. He stepped in quickly to help her, mumbling things to her about bandaging, potions, and tonics.

“Your Highness,” Master Aeson said, his red eyes meeting Zelda’s. “Before I perform my medicinal duties, I usually pray for a blessing from the Goddess. But since you are here—may I ask for your blessing?”

Zelda blinked. “I—yes, of course. Uh,” she breathed in deeply and approached the healers. She touched the air in three points, making the symbol of the Triforce above Link’s body. “May the Goddess smile upon you,” she murmured.

“Thank you,” Aeson said, bowing his head quickly, and immediately began helping Paya pack the wound, murmuring quietly to her. He glanced at Link, who was somehow still breathing. He looked back up at Zelda. “I am going to need you to travel to the fairy fountain and gather as many of the fairies there are you can. They will save his life,” he said. “Just follow the trail past the shrine; you will find it. Just grab those jars behind me,” he added, jerking his head to the four jars that sat on the shelf.

Zelda nodded and did so, glancing briefly at Link. Her heart sank. He was as pale as parchment.

_Oh, Hylia,_ she begged. _Please do not let him die._

Impa grimaced. “We may have to think about putting him back in the Shrine of Resurrection,” she said. Zelda looked up at her, aghast.

Suddenly, Link stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Zelda’s heart jumped into her throat.

“Don’t move, Master Link—you’re going to be alright,” Paya said.

“Do not,” Link gasped, “put me back in that Goddess-forsaken shrine,” he said, before his eyes shut once again.


End file.
